Caught on Camera at Munhak Stadium
Yoo Min-hoo and Lee Yoon-ji spent the day wandering around Munhak Stadium. As a Busan native, Yoon-ji found Incheon pretty unfamiliar too, so they took their time figuring out directions here and there, but it ended up being a fun outing all the same.
Feels just like a date. That was what Yoo Min-hoo muttered to himself as he walked alongside her.
He wasn't exactly inexperienced with dating. As a high school baseball star whose name was already making waves back then, he'd been popular at school, and even before his regression, opportunities had come his way. Of course, none had progressed to talk of marriage or anything that deep, but he wasn't a total novice when it came to women either.
Though some only approached because of my background.
Pre-regression Yoo Min-hoo had been, frankly, a third-rate pitcher. But his father, Jack Brown, was a baseball legend. In America, the common wisdom was that "famous baseball player = rich." And there were more gold-diggers eyeing that status than you'd expect. The label "Jack Brown's son" had stuck to him throughout his playing career—before the regression and even now.
Well, it's only natural, I suppose.
Blood didn't make them father and son, but the moment that relationship formed, it was an unavoidable entanglement. Yoo Min-hoo had grown thoroughly accustomed to it over the years. Still, it didn't mean he felt nothing about it.
Turning down Boston's $2 million offer to sign with Oakland had been due in part to the team's minor league policies and ongoing medical investments, but another reason was none other than his father, Jack Brown. Yoo Min-hoo couldn't help but chafe at the halo effect boosting his own reputation.
I thought I'd ditched that pointless pride long ago, but looks like not. He chuckled inwardly to himself.
By around 4 p.m., Yoo Min-hoo and Lee Yoon-ji had made their way back to Munhak Stadium. The reason? To meet up with Lee Ho-seok before the game.
"How's Ella sis doing?"
"Too well. It's almost a problem."
As they headed to the agreed meeting spot, Yoon-ji asked curiously, and Yoo Min-hoo shrugged with a casual reply. The two had always exchanged friendly greetings as neighbors.
"Glad she's doing well... Oh! There's oppa."
Nodding along, Yoon-ji suddenly pointed to one side.
Standing near the entrance used by team staff, Lee Ho-seok spotted the approaching pair from afar and waved happily.
"Whoa~ Long time no see, you rascal."
He pulled Yoo Min-hoo into a quick hug as they drew near, sharing a moment of reunion. Watching this, Yoon-ji furrowed her brow.
"What? You don't see me?"
At her words—irked that her brother seemed to ignore her entirely—Ho-seok replied flatly.
"You? I see you all the time. Not that exciting."
Staring at her provoking brother, Yoon-ji kicked his right shin.
It was a light tap, but Ho-seok yelped in pain anyway, clutching the spot and hopping around.
"Ack!"
Rubbing his shin and grimacing, he whined.
"Man, she just gets more violent every day!"
Yoo Min-hoo tsked at his friend's complaint.
"From where I'm standing, seems like he deserved it."
Yoon-ji nodded emphatically in agreement, then stuck her tongue out at Ho-seok. He muttered glumly at the sight.
"No one's on my side, huh."
Shaking off the low mutter, he switched to his usual cheerful tone.
"Anyway, enough of the small stuff. Let's head inside."
He led the way, opening the door. Yoon-ji grumbled softly behind him.
"Oppa just gets more sly by the day."
Yoo Min-hoo burst out laughing at that.
The three entered Munhak Stadium and followed Ho-seok's lead through the team areas. The people passing by—clearly security or staff—made it obvious this wasn't for the general public.
"Oh yeah, speaking of—Min-hoo, you know Uncle Kevin, right?"
"Kevin?"
Yoo Min-hoo paused at the question, then nodded as it clicked.
"If you mean Kevin Walton, yeah. We were teammates."
The veteran pitcher Kevin Walton had signed with Oakland as a free agent this season but got demoted midseason and joined Nashville. He'd planned to retire at season's end, but when Incheon Worriworzs suddenly needed a mercenary, they offered him a deal. Accepting, he'd started a second career in the Korean league.
Even as a mercenary, Kevin had become indispensable to Incheon. Joining later than most imports, he'd still racked up 11 wins with a 3.78 ERA, key to their second-place pennant finish. Incheon wanted him back next year too, so contract talks were underway even during the Korea Series. He was today's starter.
"He was thrilled when I mentioned you were his friend. Thanks to you, we've gotten close. The previous merc just rubbed me the wrong way."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. But Kevin throws well, and even he couldn't hack it... MLB must be something else."
Ho-seok shook his head in awe.
Foreign mercenaries usually brought heat. Incheon's other import, Pena Garcia, was a righty fireballer topping 151 km/h. Kevin threw average velocity but excelled with pinpoint control and a deep arsenal, stabilizing games. Experts said he'd have been a wins leader if he'd joined from the start. As his catcher, Ho-seok knew his skill well. The fact even Kevin couldn't cut it in MLB left him imagining unfathomable heights.
Yoo Min-hoo replied matter-of-factly.
"MLB's a den of monsters, yeah... But purely on skill, Kevin's MLB caliber."
"But he got demoted."
Ho-seok asked puzzled, and Yoon-ji eyed Yoo Min-hoo too.
"Skill's MLB level, but stamina doesn't keep up."
Ho-seok's face lit with understanding.
Baseball taxes stamina less than most sports, but a season means 161 games over seven months, crisscrossing the vast U.S. Even with charters, the travel drains you. That grueling schedule broke even skilled MLB vets. Stamina dips straight to performance drops.
"Got it. So in other words, you need at least Kevin's level just to be an MLB reliever."
"Pretty much."
As Ho-seok scratched his head at that—
"Roy?"
Someone called Yoo Min-hoo from ahead. A voice both he and Ho-seok knew well: Kevin.
"Oh, it's Roy."
Kevin beamed, approaching for a handshake.
"Good to see you, Kevin."
"Haha, good to see you too, Roy. What brings you here?"
"Ho-seok invited me to watch the Korea Series."
"Ah, right—you're friends with Ho-seok."
Kevin grinned knowingly. Watching their exchange, Ho-seok commented.
"Your English is killer."
"Oppa, dummy? He lives in America—of course."
Yoon-ji shot her brother a pitying look. He just shook his head at his sister, who always sniped back—probably from years of teasing her.
The caster, discussing the teams' situations pre-game, sounded puzzled upon spotting the face on camera. The analysts checking data recognized him too, voicing surprise.
"That's Yoo Min-hoo, Oakland's rookie who debuted in MLB this season."
"Ah~ An unexpected visitor at Munhak Stadium."
The caster marveled, but one veteran analyst shook his head.
"Not that unexpected. He was teammates with today's Incheon starter, Kevin Walton, this season. And he formed a battery with Incheon's main catcher Lee Ho-seok back in high school senior year. I met him myself when I went to Oakland for MLB commentary this year—we even chatted."
As the analyst warmed to tales of their encounter, fans around Yoo Min-hoo on screen recognized him and started clamoring for autographs.
Lee Yoon-ji, sitting beside him, looked a bit flustered by the sudden rush. She'd spent the whole day with him, but this was her first time seeing him mobbed for signatures. She watched quietly as he smiled kindly and signed for everyone.